Read Online The Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman - Free Book Online
Authors: Philip Pullman
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Mrs. Rees to the maid, who had just brought in the toast. "Miss Lockhart claims to have been robbed in my house. And does she blame my servants? Do you blame my servants, miss?"
The question was addressed in such a furious tone that Sally nearly quailed.
"I don't know who to blame! But when I woke up I found my bag upset all over the floor, and several things missing. And—"
Mrs. Rees had gone red. Sally had never seen anyone so angry; she thought the woman had gone completely insane, and took a step backward in fright.
"See, Ellen, see! She repays our hospitality by pretending to be the victim of a robbery! Tell me, Ellen: was the
house broken into? Are there shattered windows, and footprints? Are any other rooms disturbed? Tell me, child. I will not wait a moment for an answer. Tell me at
once:
"No, ma'am," said the maid in a pious whisper, looking everywhere but at Sally. "I promise you, Mrs. Rees. Everything's where it should be, ma'am."
"On your promise at least I may rely, Ellen. Then tell me, miss—" Turning back to Sally, her face now twisted like some tribal mask, pale eyes bulging and papery lips drawn in a sneer, "Tell me why these robbers who did not enter the house should select you for their imaginary attentions? What did you have that anyone would want?"
"Some papers," said Sally, who was now shaking from head to foot. She could not understand it: Mrs. Rees seemed possessed.
"Some papers? Some papers? You wretched girl— papers —let me see the scene of the crime. Let me see it. No, Ellen, I can rise without assistance. I am not so old that all the world may take advantage of my weakness— out of my way, girl, out of my way!"
The last words came in a shriek to Sally, who, confused, hovered between the table and the door. Ellen, solicitous, stood aside smartly, and Mrs. Rees tottered up the stairs. At the door of Sally's room she stopped, wait-mg for it to be opened, and again it was Ellen who was there to do it, Ellen who took her arm as she entered, Ellen who cast—for the first time—a look of sly triumph at Sally, who had followed.
Mrs. Rees looked around. The bedclothes were piled untidily; Sally's nightgown trailed half across the floor and half over the end of the bed; and two of her drawers
were open, with clothes jammed hastily into them. The pathetic little heap of things beside Sally's bag on the floor—a purse, a coin or two, a handkerchief, a pocket diary—were scarcely noticeable. Sally saw that the case was hopeless before Mrs. Rees said a word.
"Well?" was the word. "Well, miss?"
"I must have been mistaken," said Sally. "I beg your pardon, Aunt Caroline."
She spoke almost demurely, because an idea had just come into her head: something quite new. She stooped to pick up the things from the floor and found herself smiling.
"What are you grinning at, miss? Why are you smiling in that insolent fashion? I will not be smiled at."
Sally said nothing, but began to fold her clothes and put them neatly on the bed.
"What are you doing? Answer me! Answer me at once, you impertinent hussy!"
"I'm going to leave," said Sally.
"What? What did you say?"
"I'm going to leave, Mrs. Rees. I can't stay here anymore—I can't and I won't."
A gasp from the lady, another from the maid—and they stood aside as Sally made purposefully for the door.
"I shall send for my things," she said. "You will have the goodness to send them on when I let you know my new address. Good day."
And she left.
And found herself, once on the pavement outside, quite at a loss what to do next.
She had burned her boats—she was sure of that. She
could never go back to Mrs. Rees; but where else could she go? She walked on steadily, out of Peveril Square, and passed a news agent's; which gave her an idea. With almost the last of her money—three pennies—she bought a copy of The Times, and sat down to read it in a nearby churchyard. There was only one page which interested her, and it was not that which
The question was addressed in such a furious tone that Sally nearly quailed.
"I don't know who to blame! But when I woke up I found my bag upset all over the floor, and several things missing. And—"
Mrs. Rees had gone red. Sally had never seen anyone so angry; she thought the woman had gone completely insane, and took a step backward in fright.
"See, Ellen, see! She repays our hospitality by pretending to be the victim of a robbery! Tell me, Ellen: was the
house broken into? Are there shattered windows, and footprints? Are any other rooms disturbed? Tell me, child. I will not wait a moment for an answer. Tell me at
once:
"No, ma'am," said the maid in a pious whisper, looking everywhere but at Sally. "I promise you, Mrs. Rees. Everything's where it should be, ma'am."
"On your promise at least I may rely, Ellen. Then tell me, miss—" Turning back to Sally, her face now twisted like some tribal mask, pale eyes bulging and papery lips drawn in a sneer, "Tell me why these robbers who did not enter the house should select you for their imaginary attentions? What did you have that anyone would want?"
"Some papers," said Sally, who was now shaking from head to foot. She could not understand it: Mrs. Rees seemed possessed.
"Some papers? Some papers? You wretched girl— papers —let me see the scene of the crime. Let me see it. No, Ellen, I can rise without assistance. I am not so old that all the world may take advantage of my weakness— out of my way, girl, out of my way!"
The last words came in a shriek to Sally, who, confused, hovered between the table and the door. Ellen, solicitous, stood aside smartly, and Mrs. Rees tottered up the stairs. At the door of Sally's room she stopped, wait-mg for it to be opened, and again it was Ellen who was there to do it, Ellen who took her arm as she entered, Ellen who cast—for the first time—a look of sly triumph at Sally, who had followed.
Mrs. Rees looked around. The bedclothes were piled untidily; Sally's nightgown trailed half across the floor and half over the end of the bed; and two of her drawers
were open, with clothes jammed hastily into them. The pathetic little heap of things beside Sally's bag on the floor—a purse, a coin or two, a handkerchief, a pocket diary—were scarcely noticeable. Sally saw that the case was hopeless before Mrs. Rees said a word.
"Well?" was the word. "Well, miss?"
"I must have been mistaken," said Sally. "I beg your pardon, Aunt Caroline."
She spoke almost demurely, because an idea had just come into her head: something quite new. She stooped to pick up the things from the floor and found herself smiling.
"What are you grinning at, miss? Why are you smiling in that insolent fashion? I will not be smiled at."
Sally said nothing, but began to fold her clothes and put them neatly on the bed.
"What are you doing? Answer me! Answer me at once, you impertinent hussy!"
"I'm going to leave," said Sally.
"What? What did you say?"
"I'm going to leave, Mrs. Rees. I can't stay here anymore—I can't and I won't."
A gasp from the lady, another from the maid—and they stood aside as Sally made purposefully for the door.
"I shall send for my things," she said. "You will have the goodness to send them on when I let you know my new address. Good day."
And she left.
And found herself, once on the pavement outside, quite at a loss what to do next.
She had burned her boats—she was sure of that. She
could never go back to Mrs. Rees; but where else could she go? She walked on steadily, out of Peveril Square, and passed a news agent's; which gave her an idea. With almost the last of her money—three pennies—she bought a copy of The Times, and sat down to read it in a nearby churchyard. There was only one page which interested her, and it was not that which
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